Butterfly
by Lupi Loop
Summary: She is like a butterfly and would that I could be content to watch her soar above me. But I do not belong here any more than I belong to her.' Yay for yet another one-shot! A gentle kind of ZeLink/MidLink romanticism. One Shot -


Sorry for yet another one-shot! I love writing these things though! Hints of MidnaXLink throughout, which is unusual for me. I hope you enjoy it enough to send me a review!

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Butterfly

'She is like a butterfly', he thinks as he watches her flitting from one person to the next in the grand assembly room. Decorated head to toe in royal gold, scarlet and violet robes she was as beautiful as she is elusive, never staying too long in one place, never talking too deeply with anyone. She dances just out of his reach yet within his line of sight and he wonders if she does such things to torment him.

It is torment, there is no doubt of that. Perfection is almost within his grasp yet it must ever be denied to him. Would that he could be content to watch her from the ground as she soared high above him. But he was not content. How could he be so? He wanted to fly with her. He wanted to be the one that danced by her side. He wanted to be the one she came to when those elegant wings of hers needed resting.

She sees him watching and a smile lights up her lovely face. Too soon does it vanish, like a gentle sigh of wind. He thinks he understands perfectly. One so beautiful cannot belong to one as lowly as he. He does not wait to watch her lavish her attention on the next man but drags his gaze from her. She is too hypnotic, he realises her spell over him has become to great to simply ignore. Had he not made her a promise he would do as his feet willed and would walk away from that place. He would return to a world where he belonged. His place was removed from the glittering lights and vibrant colours that match her so wonderfully. His world is a much humbler place. A butterfly had no business amongst fallen leaves and sodden earth. Yet he had made a promise.

So distracted are his thoughts that it is with some degree of surprise he realises that she is seeking him out. She has excused herself from her merry flattery with all the others and floats across the room. She is flying in the face of convection - she should not approach him so eagerly. Her smile should not be so warm and welcoming. Her arms should not instinctively open to greet him. The butterfly is flying against a gale. The gale comes from him. He tries to warn her with his eyes, his mouth is determined to be stern. He must not return that soft look, he must not smile so…but how can he resist when she has cast such a terrible enchantment over him.

"You came! You came!" She cries joyfully as she finally reaches him. She smiles up at him in a way he has never seen before and although it is for him alone, he hears the rush of conjecture capture the ears of all those in the room. There is silence as a hundred pairs of eyes gaze on them. Even the band playing has fallen prey to the stillness and wonder.

"I promised I would." He replies. His voice in his own ears sounds as it should, he is glad he is still capable of masking the thumping of his heart in her presence. He turns away from her, unable to comprehend what he can see in her eyes. Above the silence he can feel a buzz of excitement. A whisper rushes through the room again. 'The hero. It is the hero.'

He knows they are surprised to discover that he is the Hero that saved them all. Perhaps he disappoints them. He is certain that they had believed the hero to be a real knight in shining armour, as noble as he was handsome, well born enough to earn his fairytale ending. He loses out on most counts. Though not ill-looking, he does not think of himself as being handsome. He does not like his muddy blond hair that refuses, even on such an important occasion as this, to lie neatly, he does not like the elf-like tilt of his nose and the feral depth of his blue eyes. His stature, though strong, is on the short side and his employment is far from noble. After his grand battles he returned to his life as a lowly ranch hand. In this company of Lords and Ladies, he has no real business to be there, but he made a vow to attend and he never breaks his promises.

"This must be Ilia." The Queen's soft voice fills the silence neatly and with little awkwardness, recalling him to his surroundings and calming the burning in his cheeks. He nods and manages to introduce the childhood friend to her. The maiden at his side curtseys with simple country courtesy and smiles. She is always equal to such situations - being by far the most confident of her peers. His friend is the one to politely introduce the other members of their party, there is a veritable crowd of his friends in his company. He hopes she does not realise that he brought so many, not to demonstrate that he does have a life outside of her sphere, but so that he can hide away in amongst them. He bites his nails and turns away. The room has suddenly become so hot an oppressive and he can feel the eyes of everyone burning into him.

She has undeniable grace and beautiful manners. She conducts intelligent conversation with his humble associates as easily as she flirts with her aloof companions. He can only marvel at the address that surely hides her natural distaste at the situation. She cannot enjoy talking with his companions, they are all well out of her lofty sphere. He steals a glance at her as she laughs delightedly at something that has been said and is astonished to see that she does not look at all as if she finds the conversation tiresome. She must be an excellent actress, he thinks.

It is all he can do to prevent his glance turning into a longing stare. She is so radiant and magnificent, a true wonder of nature. Set against the backdrop of his simple fellows, she cannot help but look divine. Yet she is a goddess with a kind and generous heart. He cannot know that even if she were to find his friends dull, she would endeavour to like them for his sake. When he ventures to glance in her direction again he discovers the conversation has come to a natural finish and her attention is fixed on him.

Colour and heat rushes to his face as her face is lit by that delightfully warm smile again. There is a hush in the room that penetrates even the stone walls. She takes an uncertain step towards him and her smile goes slightly awry. A blush equal to his own warms her cheeks as she holds a hand out to him. She bows slightly as she thanks him for honouring his promise to attend this celebration. The action is painfully familiar to him, many unhappy memories of his departed friend spring to his mind. This night is held in her honour, though none but they knew of her existence.

His response is the same now as it was then. He takes the proffered hand and holds it lightly in his own. He feels a strange, almost exciting rush as their skin touches and the woman before him straightens her shoulders. They smile at one another, a gentle and familiar emotion passing between them. Perhaps they are dwelling on the same memories, the struggle and loss they faced to reach this point was something that no-one else could know about and it is the bond that unites them.

"Would you care to dance?" She whispers. For a moment he wishes for the courage to refuse, not because he would dislike so intimate a moment as such would offer him, but to still the conjecture and rumour that make his ears burn. To do so would cause her tremendous hurt though. He can picture the smile falling from her face and the icy blanket of cool calm that would replace it. She is opening up to him, letting him see the beauty of her wings, yet at any moment she could close herself off once again. Even now, a shred of doubt is creeping into her eyes. She cannot understand why he hesitates. She studies his eyes deeply, a frown marring the flawless skin of her forehead.

"I would." He replies, sopping his conscience with the realisation that he is placing them both in such a foolish situation to appease her. He cannot bear to see the smile flee from her eyes again. He realises he still holds her hand and a fresh blush shoots across his face. She thanks him again and signals to the master of ceremonies to commence the dancing once more.

He trembles as he leads her to the floor. He is painfully conscious of the numerous eyes staring at him and the hum of conspiracy circling the room. He has faced battles and demons and countless vile and terrible things in his life but never has he felt in such need of courage as he does now. She fuels the rumours by clasping his hand lightly, her fingers gently entwined with his, although she keeps her head high, defiantly staring at those who would question her choice. There is a long pause as they take their positions in the centre of the ballroom. Her face is quite pink now and the flush has spread down her neck. He can feel the pulse in her fingers fluttering wildly. She studies the floor during the silence, perhaps questioning her own actions. He is sure of it when she finally releases her hold on his hand and raises her head, a moment later she has one hand resting gently on his shoulder and she is smiling shyly at him. She does not smile at her small orchestra as she orders them to resume their playing.

The oft played notes of an ancient lullaby fill the room with a melancholy air. It suits their need for reflection yet fills them with a sense of hope. Slowly the alien feel of her moving in his arms becomes more natural to him and he learns to relax, he no longer concentrates on where his feet are treading but on enjoying the forbidden moment.

There is no doubt the moment is forbidden. It is a moment of pure luck and honour, she has chosen to dance with him but she will not do so again. She needs to find a mate of her own calibre - one who is born to her world, not one who cannot even ape their qualities. As they spin around the floor he can see the shocked disapproval on many faces. It is not enough for him to be a hero, it doesn't matter if he did single-handedly save Hyrule from destruction, all that matters in such a place is ones birth and ones wealth. It is unwise of him to have this one indulgence, he realises as he gazes down at her, this one indulgence will only cause him more grief.

As their eyes meet this time, he finds it impossible to look away. The music seems to have cast a spell on them both, some beautiful, terrible emotion has taken hold leaving them alone in the world. He realises that their roles have suddenly changed. She is a flame, glorious and mesmerising, and he has become a moth. He is irrevocably drawn to her. He has never been in love before, but on this night, at this moment, he has never been closer to the emotion. She seems to draw nearer to him now, and he cannot discover if he is responsible. He knows that if the music were to end now, he would be safe, he would be able to retreat to his corner and watch her from a distance. If the music should continue then he would find himself lost - prey to this confusing emotion that confounds him so.

"You are tense." She whispers, her voice as light as the gentle caress he feels on his shoulder. "What is the matter?"

"I…" He cannot find the words to explain to her. He raises his eyes to hers once again and sees a smile on her face. Deep in her eyes he sees himself reflected and he frowns. He is not entirely sure that the anxious, shy boy he sees staring back at him is really him. He inhales deeply and feels the spell begin to break as the music winds down. Her encouragement is something not spoken, her feelings something she cannot express. He owes it to her to speak, she is perhaps the only other person in the world that would understand. "I do not belong here."

The end of the song coincides with his softly spoken words. For a brief moment of indecision they stay rooted to the spot, holding their positions. Slowly she lowers her arms and the hint of a sigh escapes her lips. She thinks see can see the truth now. She nods and smiles tensely as she thanks him for the dance and without a further word or look, flutters off to mingle once again with the colourful crowd of her peers.

The roar of conversation fills his ears as she departs and he turns away hastily, leaving the way he came. He sees his own peers across the room, watching him in amusement. It seems that speculation about them is not restricted to those whose business it is to gossip. He smiles slightly and turns again. He needs some air; he needs to think he glances around the huge room and sees one of the tall windows open.

The twilight sky fills him with a bitter sadness. Memories of the friend he lost grip him, making his eyes sting with unbidden tears. She is so close, that friend of his, sleeping just beyond the sunset, on the other side of the mirror but he knows they will never meet again. His grief was something that he could not share, for nobody but the queen knew of his friend, but not even one as wise as she could understand what she had meant to him. They had been like two halves of the same whole, though opposite in temperament and ideas. She had been the perfect compliment to him - she was wild, where he was calm, she was decisive when he was hesitant. He had not realised until she had gone so abruptly just how much he had loved her.

A soft sound interrupts his inner musings. "I am sure there is a way you return to her." The queen stands before him, solemn and calm as always but with a strangled look in her eyes.

"I do not belong there any more than I belong here." He answers. His thoughts dwell on the strangeness of twilight and he remembers how cold it was in the twilight realm and how strange the inhabitants had been. He had been there but a short time but even then he had missed the sunlight and the green grass and the sound of the wind as it rushed through the trees.

"You would grow accustomed." She assures him. Her determined smile has gone awry and she turns her head and gazes into the darkening sky.

"I would not leave Hyrule." He replies, with simple honesty.

"Not even for her?"

"What do you…?" He glances at her and is surprised to see that she is now studying the ground carefully. The gilded butterfly that had danced so carefree in and out of the throng so easily had gone. The confident goddess who dispensed confidence and goodness to all had vanished. He was confronted by a maiden, blushing readily, wringing her hands. Her beautiful clothes and elegant poise were meaningless. He had never seen her in this guise before. She was not so much a butterfly, but a fledgling sparrow, unsure of her wings and scared to take that first step forward. Do his feelings matter that much to her?

"I…know of a way." She explains. "I could send you to her if you wish."

"Why would you do that?"

"I…I only wish for your happiness, Link." She whispers, wringing her hands again. "You love her…you…" She falters and starts biting her nails.

"I love many things, my queen." He replies, alarmed to see tears forming in her eyes. "I love the way the sun shines when it rises, I love the majesty of the moon, I love the company of my friends, I love the way the birds sing, I love the feel of the grass beneath my feet and the way the forest smells when it rains." He smiles and reaches for her hand. "I love the delicate beauty of a butterfly's wings."

"But I am not talking of that kind of love." She protests, her sorrow evident in her voice and on her face. She moves out of his reach.

"Then what kind of love do you mean? The love between friends? The affection for a first love? The longing for an impossible dream?"

"All of those things." She cries. "The love for the part of you that makes you a whole, the love for one that you would give your life for. The kind of love that will only grow and beautify with age, the love that you will grieve for eternally. The love that can never be yours. The kind of love I…" She chokes on her words and turns away, a fresh blush mounting her cheeks. "You did not love her in the way you love your country, or your friends."

"No, I didn't." He agrees. A soft smile lights his face as he remembers the one he has lost. Almost he can hear her chiding him and teasing him on the breeze. "But neither did I love her in the way you imagine."

"And what do I imagine?" She asks, suspiciously.

He smiles at her and reaches for her hand. "You imagine mine to be an unselfish emotion, don't you? You believe I would give up everything to return to her side. But you don't understand me. I don't belong there any more than I belong here."

"Then why - why did you come, if you do not belong here?" She whispers.

"I came because I promised you I would. Just like I promised I would protect Hyrule. Just like I promised I would work to the end of my contract in Ordon, though I have no need of the money. Just like I promised Midna I would help her restore her kingdom. I don't break promises, my Queen."

"But this promise…"

"Is one I have thought long and hard about." He assures her. "I did not come here to break an oath, but to make a vow. I have promised my life to you before the council." He whispers.

She chokes and buries her head in her hands. "You cannot know what they are asking of you! They have deceived you." He sees how troubled she is and is moved to take her hand in his. He pulls her closer and tentatively rests a hand on her shoulder. As she leans into him, he feels her sobbing. "I do not want to be the one that chains you to a destiny you have no desire to share in." She whispers. His arm is now around her back. He realises he is embracing her. "But you do not belong here." She repeats his words with an edge of bitterness.

"I could never belong here." He concurs, gently soothing her with his kindness. "No more than I could ever belong in a world without sunlight where I am not needed."

"But…"

"I belong to the land. I belong to the sky and the earth and the sun and the people. If you can accept that for what it is and if it is your will, my Queen, I intend to remain where I can be of the most use." He announces. He smiles down at her, and sees how she has settled quite comfortably into his light embrace. "She never needed me, like you do." He adds, a slight quirk in his soft voice. "And you would never use me the way she used me!"

"But what we are asking of you…"

"Is nothing compared to what she demanded of me." He smiles at the memory of his beloved Imp. He is quite sure that she would be smiling too had she seen him. "At least in this instance we have a choice. You know me by now, my queen, you know that I am awkward and graceless and have about as many social skills as a tektite, but I promise that I will do all I can to make life bearable for you. I came tonight so that you could see for the first time how truly different we are and how ill suited I am to be your suitor. Your people think so, I think so and perhaps now you think so. I came so that you too could make a decision about what you want. I will promise to do what ever it is you ask of me."

She lifts her head from his shoulders and gazes into his eyes. He is certain that she will come to the same conclusion as he did. She is a butterfly far beyond his reach, a thing of wonder and beauty that he can never hold. She deserves a mate far greater than he could ever be. Somebody that matches her magnificence. She smiles that beautiful smile again. He cannot see how well he compliments her, how she becomes alive in his presence, he does not know how much she loves this humble creature that stands before her. And though she knows that his heart is not yet hers, she knows that one day, it may be.

It is as though he wings are unfurling before him. The slow smile that spreads across her face and lights her eyes is more beautiful than any painted wings could be. Her eyes sparkle with unshed tears. He is mesmerised by her once again and it comes as a shock to him to realise that he doesn't actually care what people are whispering about them, or whether or not he is fit to be her mate. He is only concerned with her happiness.

"What ever you ask of me, my Queen." He repeats his words gently.

"I would ask you to be my King." She says softly. The words catch him by surprise and his eyes raise to hers. That radiant smile is back again for the world to see and her eyes are glossy with tears. He has never seen her so beautiful before. "But only if you really don't mind."


End file.
